


Swearing

by ntldr



Series: The SARMA universe [5]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: youngling Hot Rod
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-03
Updated: 2016-10-03
Packaged: 2018-08-19 09:10:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8199508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ntldr/pseuds/ntldr
Summary: "“I can talk the way I do because I've lived through enough vorns to do it!"Inspired by greenapplefreak's latest comic.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Time Out](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/232669) by greenapplefreak. 



> WHOA HEY, something that's not 'Iacon Prophecy!'
> 
> This was inspired by [greenapple's latest comic,](http://ntldr.deviantart.com/art/Time-Out-636808291) you should go see it!

Whenever the duo had the luck of finding an abandoned base that hadn't yet been picked cleaned, it was rare that anything was labeled in the same way that it would have been in the Autobot military, let alone organized and stacked correctly. That wasn't to say that Sunstreaker would turn away valuable parts because they didn't have the right inspection sticker, but he'd have to endure the processor-draining task that was regrouping everything into a system that he could more easily and readily access, especially when it came to weapons and ammunition, and he didn't feel safe regulating any more to Hot Rod than separating different sized gears. Luckily there were long, lonely orns to fill as they hopped between planets, and Sunstreaker had been carrying one of these crates of assorted _things_ up to the bridge, contemplating where he was going to put the extra inventory, when he heard a frustrated cry from a room behind him.

“Piece of slagging, son of a glitch!”

Sunstreaker nearly dropped the crate.

It wasn't that he didn't like swearing. He was a soldier; if someone wasn't cursing during a firefight, then that meant that things were _really_ going ball-bearings up. Pit, he and Sideswipe had come up with some juicy ones over the vorns. But it startled him to be hearing it from such a young voice.

There was the musical cue of a building collapsing in _Mighty Mechanics,_ then the smack of a controller being slammed down on the floor.

“Fragging scrap! What the frell?! I had that set up right!”

“Hot Rod!”

Setting down the crate, Sunstreaker stormed around the corner and into the large area that Hot Rod had re-purposed into a giant _Mighty Mechanics_ hologram. The orange youngling kept his back to the Autobot as he scowled at the digitized remains of what had been going to become a skyscraper. The game physics must have insisted that such a tall and skinny tower would fail, and when the youngling continued to build on it anyway, it had decided to snap in half, ruining half a joor's worth of work.

“Look at it!” Hot Rod thrust a hand at the scattered bits littering his colorful but imaginary world. “It's scrapped now!”

“When did it become okay for you to use language like that?!”

“What? 'Scrap'?” Now Hot Rod looked over his shoulder at the bigger mech. “I use it all the time, and so do you.”

“Not that, all the slag before it!”

“The slagging yelling?”

“Not the slagging yelling, the slagging language!”

“Slag, that?”

“Slag right, that—ENOUGH!”

The Autobot scowled at the giggling youngling, who had known exactly what he was doing. He stormed a few steps closer to Hot Rod and pointed at him.

“I can talk the way I do because I've lived through enough vorns to do it! You, you're still a kid! And you do _not_ use language like that aboard this ship!”

“Why the frell not?” Hot Rod raised his hands. “Who's here to get offended?!”

“I don't want it to become a habit!”

“It won't be, I was just really fragging mad!”

“Stop it!”

Hot Rod crinkled his nose and crossed his arms. “Slagging well make me.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

An old tune popped into Sunstreaker's cortex as he shifted the ammunition into different piles, and he hummed it for a little while before a buzzing noise caught his attention.

“Another ten breems, Hot Rod.”

The buzzing noise intensified. The golden mech snorted through his vents as optics flickered up towards the youngling.

Sunstreaker had hastily taped a square space in one corner of the bridge as a designated 'Time-Out' zone decacycles ago, and Hot Rod sat cross-legged on the floor within the square, glowering darkly at the Autobot. His shoulders hunched, the pose almost threatening if he hadn't been so much smaller than Sunstreaker.

That, and the bar of soap in his mouth made the glare all the more ridiculous.

Sunstreaker lifted an optic ridge as he met his stare, then pointed with one finger at the opposite wall. With one more annoyed buzz of his vocalizer, the youngling scooted around, and crossed his arms as he hunched over and stared at the wall.

Sunstreaker went right back to sorting the ammunition, and enjoyed the extra ten breems of peace.

**Author's Note:**

> The moral of the story is that when you learn to swear, also learn how to not get caught.


End file.
